


The New Kid Affair

by catfishkid



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Bromance, F/M, Friendship, I just started typing, I’m not even sure where this is going, M/M, eventually, or pre slash, possible slash, who knows yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catfishkid/pseuds/catfishkid
Summary: Napoleon Solo is left to babysit the new kid. Some annoying know-it-all agent with a Beatles haircut, Russian accent and the emotional range of a plank of wood. This could either be amusing or be the death of him, or rather them, literally.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	The New Kid Affair

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered how they got partnered together so I started typing and came up with this chapter. No idea where I’m going with it but I’m excited to see what I can come up with. I’m a total Napoleon/Illya shipper but unsure if I’ll go full blown in this story or perhaps just tease at the idea. We shall see :)

They all looked the same, like every year when the intake of new agents from survival school came around. It was almost as if they had a cloning machine on that island. Particularly the male agents, all clean cut kids with the same short hair, slightly oversized suits and shoes polished within an inch of their life. All excitable, full of energy and eager to impress.

This year there was someone that broke that mold though. As Napoleon sat back in the chair in Mr Waverly’s office whilst his boss introduced himself to the new recruits lined up against the wall, Napoleon eyed one lad in particular. 

He had blonde hair styled in the Beatle-esque fashion craze that the young men from Britain and now seemingly America were into. The sort of hairstyle that Napoleon really wanted to comment needed cutting. He wore a smart jacket, but it wasn’t the standard navy blue, dark grey or black donned by most operatives it was beige and underneath it wasn’t a shirt and tie there was a black turtle neck. His dark pants were slim fit, another fashion fad that had escaped Napoleon, and seemingly every other agent apart from this one, and just to complete the alternative agent look he wore black boots. Napoleon could tell they were fake leather, at least he’d attempted to shine them though.

In fact, Napoleon was pretty sure that bar the jacket and fit of the pants that this kid had just worn his standard survival school training uniform. Granted there was no formal dress code at HQ men just always wore suits. Look professional, think and act professional it was a clear unwritten rule that any gentleman should know. This was a bold move from the young operative. He didn’t seem to care though, his attitude just came off as aloof as he stood, hands in his pockets. He hadn’t even engaged in the small talk amongst his excitable peers before Waverly started making his way down the line to greet them.

When Waverly got to the aloof blonde he finally gave a smile, it was bashful and Waverly spoke to him longer than the other agents. Napoleon strained to hear what was being said, but he couldn’t make any of it out.

Waverly eventually made his way down the rest of the line and then gave a group introduction to Napoleon, the newly appointed second in command, and then dismissed the twenty or so graduates into the hands of superior agents who would be overseeing them whilst they settled in. He made one stay behind though, the one Napoleon had his eye on.

“Napoleon Solo,” Waverly said pushing the blonde in his direction, “this is Illya Kuryakin.”

Napoleon momentarily asked himself what sort of name that was as he stood up and extended his hand. But that was quickly made clear.

“Hello,” Illya said straight to the point, a straight to the point Russian accent shrouding his word. He took Napoleon’s hand and shook it firmly.

Waverly took a seat at the giant round table in the middle of the room. “Mr Kuryakin was the top recruit out of survival school. Boasting an already impressive navy career, quantum mechanics PhD from Cambridge at the age of 23, proficient in several languages and skilled in gymnastics and martial arts.”

“What can’t you do?” Napoleon asked with a chuckle although Illya didn’t seem to take the joke.

“Not much,” he replied flatly. 

“Mr Kuryakin,” Mr Waverly continued, “Solo here is our best agent, newly appointed number 1 in section 2. Rose up the ranks in just less than two years with a 99% mission success rate.”

Now it was the Russian’s turn to look him up and down, deep blue eyes giving nothing away but then the faintest hint of a smile overcame his lips. “Only 99%?”

There was a trace of sarcasm in hidden in the thick accent which instantly put Napoleon’s back up. Was this kid actually mocking him? And worst of all, Waverly was chuckling. 

“Napoleon, I want you to make sure Illya settles in, be his mentor of some sorts.”

No, that was worst of all.

“No!” Napoleon said too forcibly earning a bemused look from Illya and a not so amused look from his superior. “I mean I’m just super busy with everything and surely a section 3 agent should be the one to do it.”

Junior field agents started out in Section 3 of the organisation, enforcement and intelligence and usually got shown the ropes by more experienced agents in that section. Whereas Napoleon was section two operations and enforcement, the higher level of field agent. Those who handled all the real important save the world type of stuff.

“Illya is starting in section 2, so makes sense to have him looked after by our finest. Take it as a complement Mr Solo.”

Napoleon raised his eyebrows, it was super rare that an agent was directly appointed to section 2 straight out of school, even if that’s where all the students did apply to be placed. 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Napoleon agreed to look after Illya, not that he had much choice in the matter. Mr Waverly called in one of the pretty female staff members to show Illya to the cafeteria to get lunch whilst keeping Napoleon back for a word.

“Illya almost didn’t graduate,” Mr Waverly said straight to the point and he must’ve seen the confusion on Napoleon’s face as he carried on, “he came top of all his classes with some of the highest marks we’ve ever seen but he continuously raised concerns with his psych evaluations.”

“He’s crazy?” 

“Not quite. He just seems to lack basic emotion when it comes to personal relationships. He was quite the loner at school and always put the mission before teammates in training scenarios.”

“I thought that was the making of a good agent. Should’ve scored him top marks I would’ve thought.” 

Napoleon hadn’t gone through survival school, he’d been recruited by U.N.C.L.E. via other channels, but still during his basic training and over time it had been drilled into him personal feelings shouldn’t hinder the mission at hand.

“It’s text book perfect agent. So much so, we couldn’t not let him graduate, but we’re not like Thrush we don’t want an army of robots. Personal relationships make for good teamwork and good teamwork makes for a successful mission.”

“Understood, but what has any of this got to do with me, sir?”

“Mr Solo, building personal relationships is a skill you clearly have an abundance of. I was hoping you could somehow pass some of that on to Mr Kuryakin.”

“Ahh, got it.” Napoleon bit the inside of his lip. He had a feeling that he had his work cut out for him.

“And Mr Solo.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I don’t mean turn him into a womaniser. It’s painful enough having to watch you frolicking around.”

Napoleon frowned, he didn’t frolic.

It wasn’t hard for Napoleon to spot the new agents in the cafeteria, they’d stuck together across a few of the long benches in the middle along with the agents in charge of them. And then there was the exception, Illya, he was sitting alone in the back corner nursing a foot long subway. Napoleon grabbed himself a coffee and joined the young agent.

“Enjoying that?” Napoleon tried to sound friendly, taking a seat opposite the lad.

“Better that what they served at school.”

It really irked Napoleon that Illya hadn’t even looked up at him whilst he spoke, but he remembered what Waverly had said and took it in his stride. “So you’re quite the man, a PhD at the age of 23?”

“Yes,” finally Illya looked up, lowering his food, “quantum mechanics from Cambridge.”

“Oh,” Napoleon didn’t know why he was shocked to hear it was from Cambridge, just another impressive thing from the boy wonder. “So what made you join us?”

Illya quickly picked up his sub and once again his eyes were on the food. “The great pension scheme.” His voice wasn’t full of the annoying sarcasm it had been in HQ and Napoleon has a feeling the boy just really didn’t want to answer the question. Fair enough. He offered a friendly chuckle at the comment

“After you’ve finished I’ll take you to the armoury and get you equipped.”

The coffee and and sandwich were finished in silence. This was definitely going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
